Author's Note: This One Shot is my surprise gift and dedication to the new admins of Jodhaa-Akbar forum at Myeduniya, Spoon and Sampoo(Sammy). I am damn sure that you both are gonna rock it! Now, coming to the title, as can be seen in my banner, I am in YJHD mode these days and this beautiful melody has taken over my mind these days. It resembles a beautiful tale and now, I present to you, "The Unsung Poem: Subhanallah..." Enjoy!

The
Unsung Poem: Subhanallah...

Her gaze rested for a small moment upon the wedding album
that had captured the oddness and the neutrality of the time but had not found
any repartee with joyousness that was supposed to be found in any normal
marriage.

A smile crept up at the crook of her lips as she stole a
glance at her smiling husband, beside her, and then opened another album which
was their third wedding anniversary bash. It had the real moments; the real
beauty; the unsung poem.

"...and so we
finish this conference, gentlemen, and head to our sole aim of reaching the
third best position by the end of this year. The agenda is set and so we must
be. Thank you."

Concluding the
start-up conference with the motivating push, Khushi Raizada, the Managing Director
of Beauty-The Reality aka BTR Designs, headed out of the conference hall with a
team of fussing and smartly dressed men following her. They were carrying
numerous files in their hands and following her lead.

The march past, with
the discussion, halted abruptly as their leader's cell phone rang and she
adjusted her full black framed glasses, then flipped open her phone.

"Yes, Mumma, how
are you?"

She kept walking and
gestured her team to get dismissed while she was in her private matters. Khushi
stepped inside her warmly architecture done room and opened her laptop, still
listening to her mother.

"Oh, ****!"
she cursed under her breath, closing her eyes for a single moment. Then,
breathing rapidly, she spoke, "Yeah Mumma, of course, I remember that today
is our wedding anniversary. I mean, I am sure that..."

Her words trailed off
as her mother, Snigdha Gupta, shooed off her lies in a calm and composed
manner. The mother-daughter duo talked casually for a few more minutes and as
Khushi's cell beeped again, indicating a meeting reminder, they hung over.

Placing the cell phone
on her desk, Khushi sighed and, shaking her head, walked outside her cabin and
thrust orders, "Guys, Valruchi Group meeting on the cards. What are the
stats of the market?"

Her high and long
ponytail swayed with her quick and professional movements. Her long hair was a
crisp shade of dark brown and black with shine. As she instructed her staff,
one could see her full and delicate lips hum up and down, rhythmically. Her
eyes were pure hazel and in the shape of a doe. She was fitted into a dull gray
and brown shirt and trousers with a Titan shining in her left wrist.

She was Khushi
Raizada, the epitome of perfection.

"Where are you lost, Khushi?" he softly chided her
and caressed her still amber hair while she kept staring at nowhere in
particular, lost in the foolish days of her life.

His voice brought her back to the reality of her now
meaningful life and she answered, with yet another question, "Do you
remember, Arnav, that we used to forget our marriage anniversaries every year
and then either Di used to call and remind you or Mumma used to do that with
me? We were so callous of the misery that our beloveds might suffer with our
ignorance!"

"Yeah, I know. It must have been so hard for our
families to live with our strangeness. It was like, we never got married."

A smile tugged at the corner of both their lips, evaporating
the frowns, as they relived those times, almost thirteen years back of their
married life.

"I am so sorry,
Arnav, it completely slipped off my mind. You know, I was so busy with all the
pressure due to that Valruchi project I told you about that I did not get any
time to check the personal calendar."

Khushi kept her
explanation to the minimized form for she knew that neither did he remember and
nor did he. They were on equal boats, for this matter.

He patted her back,
and reassured, "It's completely okay yaar. Even I forgot about it. And
anyways, we both know that marriage is our total agreement point. It is pure
****."

Arnav Singh Raizada
and Khushi Raizada, once Gupta, had now officially been married for three
years. He was a complete introvert with little words to be shared and spoken
while she had not been like this. She had been a charmer and a lovely girl
until things changed her. While his life was filled with the bitterness of his
father's abandonment, her life was a story of different phases.

Born and brought up in
the wealthy and renowned Gupta family, Khushi had learnt a lot from her
role-model and her father, Anshuman Gupta. She had always been closer to him
than to her mother for she spent her time with him, learning about business and
skills. She had grown up to be exceptionally intelligent with a look to die
for.

"Exactly; but
Mumma and Di, like every year, have thrown a party for our anniversary,"
she informed, scrolling down the screen of her iPad.

Arnav never had that
security of being with a loving father. His father had left them to fend for
their own selves when he was barely nine and his sister fourteen. They had
never faced financial crisis because of his maternal family's support. But a
child, no matter however much vivid the conditions of life are, is sure to
suffer from a broken family. And so he did. His faith over the institution of
marriage was completely killed.

The other beautiful
and successful weddings around him always made him realize that he was the
burden of an unsuccessful relationship; that marriage in itself was a burden.

"Khushi..."
he called out, all of a sudden, and she looked up from her gadget.

He continued, "I
mailed you the snaps of the Manali trip. Check them out for yourself and then
print the best choice out for Di and Aunty. They are getting harried over
it."

She shook her head,
defeated, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then, she opened the mails
and shuffled through the pictures.

For Khushi, marriage
had never held much opinion. She had lived a comfortable life with her darling
parents and never passed much food of thought to the institution of marriage.
And when her marriage had been fixed with a shrug from her side, to Reyaan Vaidya,
she had not thought much of it. But it was just a passing phase. Her father's
untimely and abrupt death had shaken her and their lives completely.

Crisis, downfall and
dark realities of life hurled mercilessly at her as Reyaan's rejection of her
on the day of their engagement, when her father's financial losses had been
revealed.

He had said, shaking
her by her shoulders, "What do you think of yourself, Khushi? Why would
someone want to marry a girl with no fun and excitement in her? Why would
someone want to marry a corpse like you and that too, with such a
headache?"

She had stood there,
with a distraught mother and murmuring relatives in the hall, and had not said
anything for that day, her self-esteem had been hurt and hurt badly.

That had been the day
when her neutrality towards marriage had tilted off. It had changed completely
with two parallel tales being told; one of her own hurt and dejected
self-esteem and the other, the loneliness and depravation of her mother. She
was not so strong to bear such emotional attachment to somebody who would leave
her one day, like her father. She could not bear to be in her mother's place,
one day.

"Finalized?"
he queried, typing hurriedly on his laptop as she kept looking at the snaps.

For the first time in
years, her mind stopped pondering restlessly. It halted with the moment to gaze
away pensively at the click.

Arnav's hand was on
her ankle, pressing it slightly, and her eyes were closed in pain. But the
picture was a perfect shot. She clearly remembered that her foot had stumbled
while walking and he had lent her his hand very silently, like always, and had
healed that sprain.

"Finalized,
Khushi?" he repeated, yet again.

She looked back up at
him and mumbled, "Yeah, I guess, this would be perfect."

As he saw the snap,
his eyes narrowed. "But this is a careless click, Khushi. It was taken by
Sahil and then Kruti bothered us for it for days. Don't you think that it
should be something different like Di and Aunty like?"

"This is so
natural," she absent-mindedly answered.

Arnav looked at her
for a fleeting moment and smiled, casually shrugging off.

Arnav and Khushi's
escape route from the pestering of their families had come in each other. When
they had met for the first time, it had been nothing magical; no fatal
attraction, no connectivity, no breezes; nothing but a silent acknowledgment of
the other's views. And they had realized that if they could live with their own
selves, their individuality, and then that meant marrying the other for both
were compatible ideologically.

They had tied the knot
exactly three years back.

But what could
possibly recreate a dead marriage and two strong living beliefs?

She smiled and caressed the rose that he had just given her.
"It sure did."

"But a question has always bothered me, Arnav,"
she told him.

"And?" he prodded further.

Khushi snuggled closer to him and asked, "How is it
possible that we never acknowledged the presence of each other in our lives
seriously for three years?"

"We did acknowledge, Khushi, we did. You remember how
you used to take advice from me on your official matters despite you being a
very professional and private person. And it was always you who gave final
approval to my works. We were compatible on a completely different level,
Khushi. It was just our own headstrong ignorance that we never got over our
fears and beliefs."

She nodded, understandingly.

Sahil and Kruti, the
very much in love couple, entered the party venue with their arms entwined
together and. They had known Arnav since five years and Khushi since three. But
unlike others, today they were here to change the equation of their marriage;
their ignored marriage.

Presenting Karan Singh Grover as Sahil Khurana

Presenting Surbhi Jyoti as Kruti Khurana

"Sahil!"
Arnav exclaimed and hugged him and his wife, lightly. "I am glad that you
are here before time. Kruti, do me a favor and pick Di from the airport and
Aunty from her place. Will Ya?"

Kruti bowed down and
answered, "Anything for the married man, today."

He rolled his eyes and
Sahil thrust the car keys in her hand.

"So, dude,"
Sahil started, "what's up?"

The two friends caught
up on the happenings.

Khushi closed her
laptop and closed her eyes for a small minute, stifling a yawn. She was already
fatigued and today was the party. She wished that she could avoid it.

Dragging her feet to
the floor, she stood up and walked towards the washroom for getting ready.

After thirty minutes,
she stood before the mirror and kept down her spectacles in the case. Her
vision blurred, as in habit, and she placed a hesitant grip on the lens tube.
It tumbled and her blurry vision did not help. But unexpectedly, a hand held
the tube and a tender voice murmured, "Careful, Khushi."

"You're
welcome," he murmured and then took his clothes from the cupboard and
walked off in the washroom.

Dressed in a pea**** blue, sparkling sari, with her hair held up in a tight bun, she looked ethereal
outlining her eyes with kohl. She stared at her own reflection in the mirror
and gazed at it strongly.

Her clumsiness, a few
moments back, came back to her mind and she whispered, very tenderly, "I
am imperfect; Reyaan was so right about it. Perhaps really no one would have
found a good wife in the business woman within me, if not for Arnav..."

He had heard it. And
his mind replayed the conversation he just had with Sahil.

Sahil had told him,
"How can you not love a woman as strong as Khushi, Arnav? Do you know that
your wife is self-pitying her own self? Her self-esteem has been badly hurt by Reyaan;
can't you understand a thing as simple as this? She finds herself imperfect and
incompatible and it is visible on her face, you idiot!"

"What
rubbish," Arnav had countered, "she is an independent woman with her
own mind, Sahil. She does not have time to dwell on such useless things."

And Sahil had sarcastically
concluded, "Yeah right; as if, life is only about letting go."

He gulped and walked
out of the washroom, dressed in a perfect three-piece suit.

"Khushi," he
softly mumbled as she wiped her moist eyes and readjusted her kohl.

"Yes," she
addressed.

Arnav walked up to her
and the reflection was a complete picture; of him and her.

His cologne was in her
proximity but both of them had spent three years together and now she was
unaffected.

"May I?" he
hesitantly asked her, pointing at her bun, and she gazed quizzically at his
face.

"Sorry?" she
asked, genuinely confused.

He shook his head,
smilingly, and without making her understand anything further, took the
hair-pin off her hair, letting them sway on her hips. Khushi looked ahead,
bemused.

Without giving her
time to understand anything, he smiled and walked out of the room, only glancing
back to cauterize her gaze and mumble softly, "You are beautiful, Khushi.
You are really captivating."

She blinked.

"That evening was magical," he remarked.

Khushi held his palm and kissed it, agreeing, "It
undoubtedly was."

"Yeah Di, I saw
that report-"

Arnav stopped
mid-sentence and passionately looked up at Khushi, for the first time in years
realizing how beautiful his wife was. She descended the stairs and the whole
audience stared with gaping eyes.

The music that followed
was their unsung poem.

'Ik din kabhi jo khud
ko tarashe, meri nazar se tu zara, haye re...'

The couple's gaze met
and the eternity fell apart...

With no heed to the
world beside, he walked towards the staircase and extended his palm towards his
wife, this time not for another formality, but because of his own urge to feel
her presence and her. She accepted his hand, feeling full and sparkling.

Sahil and Kruti
grinned and indicated the disc jockey to increase the volume and dim the
lights.

The couple, brought
together by the cruelty of their own abandonments and dejection yet separated
by their perceptions of it, bloomed in that song as she buried her face in the
crook of his neck and found back what she had lost; her belief over herself.

The destined fleeting
of her single statement made him realize what three years failed to. He had
understood her a lot in those three years as an individual but that dance and
that sentence made him understand her as who she was hidden to be.

With that last line,
the melody came to its end, giving them a new beginning to start with. And with
choked voice, he huskily whispered, "You are perfect, Khushi; you are
Subhanallah..."

"If not for that evening and my sentence, perhaps we
would have been still cocooned," Khushi murmured, holding his hand more
firmly.

Arnav gazed at the picture of their dance that evening,
thirteen years back, and concluded, "Destiny has its own ways, Khushi.
Isn't it amusing that one small gesture can give two people a new life; that a
song can become the story of two lives; that an unsaid acknowledgement can be
done with an unsung poem?"

"It is..." she whispered and placed her head on
his shoulder, gazing at the moon smiling at them.

A small gesture can change lives; a small sentence can mend
broken hearts; a fleeting touch can be held onto forever. The story of their
journey was an unsung poem that said it all.

Thanks a lot everyone for the beautiful compliments that you had given. This One Shot is the closest OS to my heart because this song redefines an estranged feeling from deep within. I am in love with this song and so, I translate the lyrics of this song here so that those who dun understand Hindi can also relate to the ephemeral beauty of this theme.

LYRICS AND TRANSLATION:

"Ik din kabhi jo khud ko tarashe,

Meri nazar se tu zara, haye re...

Aankhon se teri kya-kya chupa hai,

Tujhko dikhaun mai zara, haye re...

Ik ankahi si dastaan, dastaan,

Kehne lagega aaina, subhanallah...

Jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai,

Pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua..."

"One day, if you look at yourself,

With my gaze, oh dear...

What all is hidden from your eyes,

I shall show you, oh dear...

An unsaid story, a never said tale,

Will be narrated by the mirror, excellency...

Whatever is happening, is for the first time, is happening...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening,

Is happening for the first time, is happening..."

"Meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena,

Unki dori se taarifein bun lena;

Meri khamoshi se baatein chun lena,

Unki dori se taarifein bun lena..."

"To find words in my silence,

To weave praises from those unsaid words..."

"Kal nahin thi jo, aaj lagti hun,

Taarif meri hai khamakhaan,

Tohfa hai tera meri adaa..."

"What I was not yesterday, I seem like that today,

My praise is a flattery and false,

My style is your present..."

"Ik din kabhi jo khud ko pukaare,

Meri zubaan se tu zara, haye re...

Tujhme chupi si jo shayari hai,

Tujhko sunaun mai zara, haye re...

Yeh do dilon ka waasta, waasta,

Khul ke bataya jaaye na, subhanallah...

Jo ho raha hai pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua...

Subhanallah, jo ho raha hai, pehli dafa hai wallah, aisa hua... [3]"

"One day, if you call out yourself,

With my words, oh dear...

The poetry hidden somewhere within you,

I shall sing it to you, oh dear...

This cord between the two hearts,

Cannot be defined completely in words, oh excellency...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening,

Is happening for the first time, is happening...

Oh excellency, whatever is happening,

Is happening for the first time, is happening... [3]"

It has been sung by Sreeram, the brilliant winner of Indian Idol, and the music is by the phenomenal Pritam da. I hope that this song occupies the same unbent place in your hearts too as it has in mine.

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Anushree's latest myXpression

Apr 13, 2013: "Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation."
Without writing and expressing,I can't even begin to imagine my days!
Three cheers to the marvelous creations of the respective writers here!